


In Joyful Chorus Raise We

by verucasalt123



Series: Spike-centric holiday schmoop [1]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Tree, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Reminiscing, Rings, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:30:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2694812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into the lives of Spike and Lindsey, all domesticated on their first Christmas together. (prompt fill)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Joyful Chorus Raise We

**Author's Note:**

> Pairings are, in that order, Spike/Lindsey, Spike/Wes (ch 2) and Spike/Angel (ch3)

The most amazing things can happen at Christmastime.

On this particular Christmas Eve, in a fairly average Los Angeles apartment, there was a man from Oklahoma lying in the arms of his lover, who was a vampire more than a hundred years older than he was, though the man had been, in the technical sense, alive for longer. The two of them were tangled up in a multi-colored afghan on their living room sofa, lounging in post-coital bliss, exchanging occasional kisses and whispered affections.

The man, Lindsey, moved himself into a sitting position, his back against the arm of the couch, and the vampire, Spike (not Spike, William, but still, Spike), settled his back against Lindsey’s chest. 

In this private setting, Lindsey forgot about the pretense of his unaccented voice and asked his lover, in his natural Midwestern drawl, “What was it like for you? Christmas? When you were a kid? Was it a whole lot different than what we do now?”

Spike, also shedding his affected London street-kid accent to speak to Lindsey in his true voice, responded “Yeah, I guess so. We had presents and all that, but not like people do now. Just a few little things, tied up in ribbons. But it wasn’t just a day. It was kind of more like a week, neighbors coming by and everyone cooking, sharing food, like that.”

“Not ham and mashed potatoes?” Lindsey asked, genuinely curious about what things had been like so long ago.

Spike laughed. “No, love, not ham and mashed potatoes. You would have hated it. Christmas pudding was made with beef, prunes and raisins. We had it for days before Christmas, sharing with relatives and family friends. The children would get shooed away so the adults could drink wine and talk. We’d bundle up and play in the snow, friends and cousins and whichever other neighbor kids were around. Christmas dinner was goose, usually, at least at my house it was anyway. We’d go to church, mum would spend the day preparing the feast, and we’d all eat until we were stuffed, then miraculously find more room in our bellies for mincemeat pie. Yeah, you would have hated that too, probably. But then, after supper, we’d get to open our gifts. I can still remember my mum and dad, my aunt, a few neighbors, singing ‘O Holy Night’, us kids would join in when we were old enough to remember the words. It was nice. Real nice.”

Lindsey pulled his lover into a tighter embrace. “Sure sounds nice. You think about it sometimes?”

“Yeah, sometimes. The songs especially. My mum looked so peaceful when she was singing those hymns. I still think they’re pretty, even though I don’t really buy into the religion thing so much. What about you? I know your childhood years weren’t exactly Hallmark-card material, but you must have _some_ nice Christmas memories?”

“There were a couple of years there, when I was real little, I remember having a tree with lights on it, my daddy holding me up so I could put the angel on the top of the tree. My sisters all excited and talking about Santa Claus, waking up at the crack of dawn to open presents. We went to church, too, until I was ten or eleven. One year my baby sister got to play an angel in the Christmas pageant, my mama was so proud. Took a hundred pictures. Nice dinners, too, ham or turkey and potatoes and creamed corn and pies. Things got dicey after that, my daddy skipping out on us and not much to celebrate on the years when the heat was turned off on account of us not being able to pay the bill.”

“Ah, love, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something that would be hurtful.”

“It’s all right. A couple times I’d do odd jobs for someone, get together enough money to leave one or two things wrapped up for the girls, when they still believed in Santa. Maybe more than a couple times I just let myself into a house in one of the nicer neighborhoods and helped myself to a few things I thought the girls might like. Not very Jesus-y of me, I know, but I couldn’t let them go without anything. One year I even killed a wild turkey out in the woods, skinned it and brought it to my mama ‘cause I didn’t know how to cook. Can’t remember a time she looked any more proud of me than that day.”

“Lindsey, certainly she was proud when you left for college, when you got into law school. My mum would have been through the roof if I’d ever made myself into anything other than a horrible poet”, Spike replied, tilting his head back to look into his lover’s eyes.

“Nah, she was a drunk by then, just angry that I was leaving.”

Spike had heard enough at this point. He twisted himself around so that he was facing Lindsey, his body lying gently on top of his lover’s. “Look what we’ve got now, though. No snow, but a pretty tree. A couple of presents to give our friends when they come by tomorrow. So we’re ordering in Chinese food, whatever, it’s still Christmas dinner, right?”

“And you. I have you. Still like ‘O Holy Night’?”

“Course I do. It’s a pretty song.”

“Get off me, then. I’ve got something for you.”

Spike sat up and watched Lindsey disappear into their bedroom, then return with his acoustic guitar. His eyes went wide and maybe teared up a little as Lindsey sat on the floor, strumming out the first notes, then adding his beautiful voice along with the music.

“ _The king of kings lay thus in lowly manger, in all our trials born to be our friend, fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices_ …”

For a few minutes, Spike just listened, imagined the face of his mother singing the exact same words so very long ago. Then he moved onto the floor and joined Lindsey. “ _O night divine, O night when Christ was born_ …”

Lindsey set his guitar down on the floor, and pulled Spike into a passionate kiss. “Merry Christmas, Spike.”

“Happy Christmas, Lindsey. I love you.”


	2. Wonders Of His Love (Spike/Wesley)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike is so excited about Christmas; Wesley humors him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not kidding about the schoop. Bring your toothbrush.

Wesley rolled his eyes and let out a particularly long sigh that broadcasted “Woe is me” throughout their flat.

 

“Honestly, Spike? You want to participate in celebrating the birth of Christ? Where did this come from?”

 

They hadn’t been together like this last year, so Spike was patient, he knew Wesley was unaware of his love of all things Christmassy. 

 

“It’s not about Jesus, luv. It’s about lights and presents and eggnog and sitting at a reasonably safe distance in front of a fire and..well… _this_!”, he gestured toward the tree he’d hauled up three flights of stairs. He’d put the tree in a stand and made sure it was perfectly straight before Wesley had woken up, grumpy, as a result of the ruckus.

 

Wesley wasn’t a big fan of celebrating religious holidays, or of being awoken at such a ridiculous hour, but the look on his lover’s face was impossible to resist. Warily, he eyed the plastic bags covering half the floor of their living room. 

 

“So I suppose you’d like to decorate this tree, is that right?”

 

“Hell yes I want to decorate the tree, I didn’t drag the sodding thing all the way up here just to leave it naked!”

 

 

“And those bags, you’ve clearly been shopping. You must have been squirrelling away money for months”, Wes replied, deadpan, knowing full well that was not the case.

 

“So I may have borrowed one of your credit cards. I didn’t think you’d mind. Seeing as how it’s Christmas and all”, Spike answered, flashing a wicked grin at Wesley. 

 

“Neither of us are Christians, darling, I don’t understand…”

 

Spike cut him off there. “I already _told_ you, this isn’t about religion. It’s Christmas, and there’s not any snow or anything, the least we can do is make ourselves a pretty tree, yeah?”

 

Wesley couldn’t help catching on to Spike’s enthusiasm. When he got all excited about something, he could bat his lashes and get Wes to do almost anything. “All right, well, I guess we’d better get started, then. You’ll be asleep in another hour or two.”

 

“No chance. I’m too excited to sleep”, Spike replied as he started emptying the shopping bags filled with lights, ornaments, tinsel, and candy canes. Of course candy canes. “Look what else I got!!” Spike pulled one of those cartons of pre-made eggnog from the fridge and held it up with a grin, pouring two glasses and breaking out a bottle of Jamaican rum. 

 

“I’ll take mine without the booze, Spike, I prefer not to get blitzed before 5am if I can help it.” Wesley watched as Spike mixed his own drink and handed Wes his unaltered glass. 

 

They got to work quickly, Spike stringing the lights together and weaving them around the tree, sucking on the end of a candy cane the whole time. Not even the plain white lights, either, the blinking multi-colored lights, so bright and garish and attention-getting, they were like a symbol of everything that Spike was. 

 

Once the lights were arranged to Spike’s satisfaction, they worked together hanging the round red and green and gold ornaments, as well as a few snowmen and sleighs and reindeer. Wesley found himself enjoying the festivities; Spike’s excitement seemed to be contagious. They playfully hung the ornaments, stopping every now and then to kiss or take a sip of eggnog. By the time they were finished, Wesley and Spike were both laughing, completely caught up in the holiday spirit and of course, in each other.

 

“Almost done now, Wes, just need one last thing”, Spike said as he removed a box from the last bag on the floor. He held it up like it was a championship trophy – a glowing white star to be used as a tree-topper. “You put it up, okay?”

 

“Are you sure, sweetheart? Don’t you want to do it yourself?”

 

“No, I want to see you do it. Please?”

 

“Of course, yes, you know I will. I can’t remember the last time you were this excited over anything”, Wesley replied, chuckling.

 

“So you forgot about that night when you got out the-“

 

“Yeah, you were excited about that, but not like this. It’s bloody adorable.”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “ _Adorable?_ Really?”, he asked, trying to rein in his childlike enthusiasm with a forced tough-guy scowl.

 

“Yes, adorable, and beautiful and happy and I love every bit of it.”

 

This seemed to placate Spike for a moment, though he still insisted that Wesley’s choice of adjective was inaccurate. 

 

Wes was right, though, by the time he’d leaned up to place the star on top of the tree, Spike was fading. “Off to bed with you, darling. I’ll just…”, looking around the living room, “tidy up.” There was tinsel and plastic wrap everywhere. 

 

Spike kissed him as passionately as his exhaustion allowed, and made his way to their bedroom. Before he put on his pot of tea, Wes unplugged the lights.

 

On Christmas morning, Spike woke Wesley before the sun had come up and coaxed him out to the living room. He was a little nervous, since their relationship wasn’t exactly long-term at this point, even though they lived together. “I got you a present. And I didn’t even use one of your credit cards to buy it.” He handed Wes a small wrapped box without meeting his eyes. 

 

Wesley was stunned into silence as he stared down at the open box after he’d discarded the wrapping. It was a thick silver ring, titanium by the weight of it. It had been long enough without a response that Spike began to think he’d made a mistake. “You don’t have to wear it or anything, it’s not like”

 

“Spike, I love it. It’s beautiful. Thank you.” His words were almost a whisper, reverent and loving. “And before you get to thinking I don’t want to wear it, how about if you open your present now?”

 

Of course, Spike already knew it was there, under the tree, he’d shaken it and smelled it and weighed it in his hands trying unsuccessfully to guess what it was. Opening the box, his eyes welled up with tears (which he would deny until the end of time) and he pulled Wesley into an intense embrace. Inside the box was a plain silver band almost identical to the one he’d gotten for Wes. 

 

Once he regained his composure, Spike handed his gift to Wesley and asked Wesley to hand his back to Spike. “Let’s put them on each other, yeah?”

 

There was no way Wes could say no. He took the ring and slid it over the fourth finger of Spike’s left hand as Spike did the same with Wesley’s ring. They both took just a moment to recognize the significance of this gesture, and Wesley cupped Spike’s cheek with his hand, wiping away the few stray tears left on his face. 

 

“Happy Christmas, my love.”

 

“Happy Christmas, Wesley.”


	3. Christmas Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel and Spike share a smoke and some bittersweet memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A side order of angst with this one.

Spike knew Angel was there, watching him, before a word was spoken. Neither of them would ever be able to sneak up on the other, always being able to sense each other’s presence like they did. He didn’t turn, just continued staring out over the ledge of the balcony, kind of wishing it was cold outside. It was a little chilly, by Los Angeles standards, but the night sky was clear and Spike was only wearing his duster because he liked it, not because he needed it to keep him warm. 

After a few moments, Angel asked him what he was doing out here. Spike held up his cigarette and replied, “You change your mind about me smoking in your flat, Peaches?”

“No.”

“Right, then. Want one?”

“Sure”, Angel said, as Spike pulled out another Marlboro, lit it, and handed it over. No one else ever saw Angel smoking, that was one of the things about Angel that Spike had all to himself. Couldn’t remember a time when the poof had turned down the offer, it just wasn’t something he did on his own. 

“Everything all right? You’re doing the brooding and pensive thing out here. Trying to steal my act?” Angel asked with a smile.

Spike sighed. He didn’t really want to talk about it, but hell, who else was there to talk to anymore? “No, everything’s not all right. Not really. I mean, how could it be?” He paused for a moment while Angel just waited for him to continue. 

“Remember last Christmas?”

Angel laughed. “That ridiculous party. Yeah. How could I forget?”

“Fred was drunk off her arse, telling stories about frog-gigging to anyone who would listen”, Spike said with a wistful tone to his voice. “Charlie and English both trying to pretend they didn’t want to pick her up and run away with her.”

“Yeah, it was pretty obvious, huh? And Lorne…running around like crazy trying to make sure everything was perfect, none of the drinks ran out, all party-planner mode”, Angel added. 

They were both still and quiet for a moment. “Lorne…he could have got out, you know? Maybe he got out and he’s safe and happy somewhere.”

Angel responded, “Somewhere far away from us. He asked me not to look for him, so I haven’t. And I won’t.”

“Me neither. I don’t blame him.” Spike crushed out his cigarette with his boot, kicking the butt off the side of the balcony. “You know, I thought if any of us would make it out, it would have been the Bluebird.”

“Yeah, I know. Had higher odds on her than I had on you or me, honestly”, Angel admitted, taking another drag from his smoke. 

“You and me, though”, Spike said, finally looking up and to his left to address Angel, “that’s what we’ve got now, just us. Don’t get your knickers in a knot, love, I’m not complaining about the company. Just…we lost so much. So many good people, all at one time. I could live for another hundred and fifty years and I’d still feel it, I think. The empty space they left behind.”

Angel threw the rest of his cigarette over the railing and moved to his right, standing behind Spike and wrapping his strong arms around Spike’s waist. He kissed the top of his head, saying, “I know. I miss them too.”

“You knew them a lot longer than I did. I’m sure it’s harder for you, but it’s bollocks, you know? If any of us deserved to come out of that fight, it sure as hell wasn’t me, right?” Spike’s voice broke on the last word, finally letting the first tears fall from his eyes. “Wesley, God, he should have lived, or Charlie, at least, he never did anything…”

Angel’s tears fell too as he turned Spike around and held him close. “They made their choices the same as we did, Will. And we’ll both miss them, all of them, probably for always.” He pulled back a bit, enough to lean in and kiss Spike’s tears from his cheeks. “But at least we have each other. If I had to go on without you, I probably would have gone out for a suntan months ago. You know that. What we have, it’s not just because you’re the only one left. This is real, you and me.”

“I know. I do. Some days I just feel like we should have been able to save them. Save them all.”

“Of course you do. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be a champion”, Angel replied with a smile. 

Spike looked up at Angel with a small smile of his own, kissing him softly. “Happy Christmas, Angel.”

“Let’s go inside, love.”


End file.
